Healing
by Miss Padfoot
Summary: Eowyn is bored and lonely in the Houses of Healing, and needs a friend to talk to


Author's Note: Okay, this is happening just after Aragorn and Éomer and everyone left for Mordor, and Éowyn is left behind in the Houses of Healing.  
  
Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters, and I'm not making any money off this story so please don't sue me!  
  
Always, it seems, a way is found for me to be left behind. How different are the great stone houses of the men of Gondor from our own caves in Dunharrow? Save that the men are grimmer. More conscious of doom they seem to me, when any are found in the Houses of Healing. If ever I doubted Aragorn was king of this strange and lordly race, I believe it now. There is none like him, nor will there ever be again, but all the men of Gondor I have seen are like enough unto him that my thoughts cannot help but turn to him whenever I see one of them.  
  
Which is seldom in these Houses, as all who are able have ridden to war two days hence. Leaving me here. Again.  
  
How I wish Éomer were here! I cannot speak of what troubles my heart before any of the women I see every day, for they are creatures so accustomed to waiting's cruel necessity that they have never thought to question it. The idea that anyone should want to ride to battle is one of those peculiarities of the male sex that they will endure but never understand, and the idea that a woman should feel the same longing for bloodshed is so alien to them I could not begin to explain it.  
  
So I do not try. I think the women of these Houses do not know quite what to make of me. My name is held in honor in this city if the words of Mithrandir are to be believed, but every time the women come to me, to change my bandages or rearrange my cast, they stare when they think I cannot see, as if seeking an explanation for that which cannot be explained.  
  
It is not a censure, for a woman that would dare to approach an activity sacred to men-rather a complete bafflement as to why any woman would want to do such a thing. At first I found it amusing, in a grim sort of way, that I should be a source of such fascination to these people of Minas Tirith. Lately, though, it only serves to remind me how isolated I am here.  
  
The women tend to hover, fussing over little things if I should look too pale, or if I should grow tired. I have heard the men enjoy it when the women fuss, but I find it tiresome. Whatever sorcery freezes my arm is nothing beside that which freezes my heart, but that wound is one they do not see.  
  
What were his words? "A time may come soon when none will return. Then there will be need of valor without renown, for none shall remember the deeds that are done in the last defense of your homes. Yet the deeds will not be less valiant because they are unpraised."  
  
I heeded those words but little when he said them, but it seems he was right in this as he has been in everything else. Doom is coming, and all here know it. Must he be so maddeningly perfect in everything?  
  
But it is not renown I crave, for I have heard enough of the gossip of the city to know that my name is indeed held in renown here already. If it were only renown I desired, I should be content to stay here, for the women have told me that the thing we slew had lived since before the kings failed, and brought ruin to many. I knew it not when I faced him, nor cared. He struck at the king, my mother's brother, and I would have faced the Nameless Himself, I believe, in that moment, if he hurt my kin. And do not think such is an idle boast, or that I take any pride in what is the simple truth. My life means little to me now, while that of my lord was one of the few that was precious. Even the Nameless could only kill me, whatever melodramatic nonsense his foul lieutenant might spout in the hope of frightening a weak woman.  
  
Still it seems they wish to honor me for this deed, though vain in must prove to be in the end. Would that they would honor my wish to ride with the hosts, to have a chance to die sooner rather than later-to die in battle and honor on my own terms, instead of being left to burn in the house with the rest of the women. Instead they smother me in feather pillows, in a gilded cage that will avail nothing if the Enemy should come, save to steal any chance I might have at dying with a sword in my hand! Do they then expect me to throw pillows at the hordes of Sauron, in a last defiance, when they come to this city at last?  
  
Dost thou loathe the sight of me so much, Aragorn, that thou wouldst deny me the chance to die as I see fit, since we are all to die soon anyway? Is this then the meaning of thy chivalry, that though my death is as certain as thine thou wouldst deny my only prayer, to die beside the man I love, simply to prolong my life a few days?  
  
I never asked for your love, not once! I know not what beauty there is in Rivendell that would steal your heart, that by riding through fire and death I cannot hope to claim it, but I doubt not some immortal Elven maiden will wait for you in vain. I ask no more of you than my brother has asked, and been granted. Would that I had been born a man! Then at least, I might ride with you, and dare death by your side, as Éomer does. All men love their comrades in battle, but no woman can come close to a man's heart unless she be close kin, or his heart's beloved. I would prove my friendship in combat, if you will not accept my love, but you will not allow me even that.  
  
And so I sit and twiddle my thumbs and wait for the world to end.  
  
  
  
It was but yestereve that I visited the king's esquire in his chambers. The talk of the women wearies me, and I knew that in Meriadoc I might find another soul tired of being left behind. I wore only my robe, and some may think it a shocking breach of propriety for me to enter a man's room so attired, but what choice had I? The women refused to bring me other raiment, and I will not lie chained to my bed any longer. If they would think to deny me what little comfort I might take from speaking to a comrade-in-arms, I cared not what they thought of me.  
  
His room was but a short way down the hall from mine, and in the evening, restless and unable to sleep, I made my way silently into his room. He looked very small and forlorn, lying there on the great bed. When I entered he started, trying to sit up, but I shook my head with a half smile as I shut the door and held a finger to my lips.  
  
"I am not supposed to be here," I told him in a half-whisper. "But I can lie abed no longer with only the women to talk to. I will not disturb your rest if you wish to sleep, only do not bid me go back yet to that chamber that is become a cage!"  
  
He smiled then, somewhat shyly, pulling the blankets up under his chin and looking at me from under a mop of curly brown hair. His brown eyes had always seemed to me very serious, and somehow lost, and with the death of the king they had grown more so, I saw. But as I stood by the door he reached out a hand to me, saying, "Do not leave, lady! Not yet! It is-it is very lonely here, with all the others gone, and no one to talk to."  
  
He sounded so earnest that I smiled, and took a seat by his bedside. "You need not call me lady, Meriadoc," I said gently. "For we two have ridden to battle together, though all the great men would have prevented it, and I should like to think that I can count you as a friend."  
  
"O-of course!" he exclaimed, sitting up and touching my hand briefly, before drawing back as though horrified at his own temerity. "If it were not for you I should have been left behind in Edoras, and I should not know anything of the fate of the king or Pippin or Strider-I mean the Lord Aragorn-I am sorry, have I said something wrong?"  
  
I flinched only at the name of Aragorn, but the halfling covered his mouth with a hand, realizing the cause of my distress. I shook my head briskly. "Nay, my friend, 'tis nothing you have said," I assured him. Only my own foolishness, for which you can hardly be blamed.  
  
I tilted the chair back so that it leaned against the stone wall, balancing it on two legs and letting my bare feet dangle a few inches above the carpet. Almost I could imagine I was a child again, sneaking into Éomer's room late at night to talk when we were supposed to be asleep. "So, how has your stay here been?"  
  
He was silent awhile, looking down at his hands before replying. "I think they do not know what to make of me," he began at last. "Most of the women when they come in here think I am a child that has taken ill, and are quite surprised to learn that my wound came in battle." He paused, then said slowly, "It's not that I'm ungrateful. It's only-it seems I have only come this far to be left behind yet again. Even Pippin is gone now, away to fight the Dark Lord, while I must sit here and worry about them all. And Frodo-"  
  
Here he stopped, as if on the verge of revealing something he should not have. The names of Pippin and Frodo were not familiar to me, but I guessed that they must be the names of friends of his who had gone to war.  
  
"It is bitter," I agreed, "always to be left behind." I sighed, looking down at my hands, wondering why I had come here. Meriadoc needed rest, not to listen to my frustration and grief when he had enough of his own to torment him.  
  
"Yes," he agreed softly, and he looked so dejected in that instant that I wished I knew some words of comfort to offer. But if it is a woman's talent to comfort, then I am not like other women, for I could think of naught that could ease such a hurt, though I knew the pain only too well.  
  
"Tell me of Aragorn," I said finally, giving in to the desire to speak of him, though I knew it would only cause me more pain. "He healed you as well, or so they say. Had he aught to say to you, who were his companion on the road to Rohan?"  
  
He and I had never spoken of Aragorn before, had never really had a chance to speak together at length on any subject, but from the look he gave me I could tell there was little of my feelings that were hidden from him. His expression was that of compassion carefully hidden, as if sensing his pity would not be well received. It was true, then, as many had said, that there is much more to these halflings than meets the eyes, for it seemed Meriadoc could read me like a book.  
  
But his tone was light and his smile wry when he replied. "He called me a fool for losing my pack, and when I asked for pipeweed he proceeded to enlighten me as to the various names for it in the various tongues before telling me he had none, and he was tired and wanted to go to bed." He laughed at the memory of a jest between comrades, and I recalled bitterly that he had said no word to me, but had left the room before I could awake.  
  
The halfling was now peering at me in some concern, and I realized my thoughts might not be hidden as well as I thought. "I am sorry, I did not mean to upset you-"  
  
"Nay, 'tis nothing," I said. I shook my head, thinking that if Éomer spoke truly, then this halfling had been with Aragorn in Rivendell. He might know who among those that dwelt in that valley held Aragorn's heart. I pondered this for a few minutes, and decided I didn't want to know. "He said nothing to me," I told him, in as unconcerned a tone as I could manage. "He was not there when I awoke."  
  
Meriadoc said nothing, only looked sadly down at his hands, and I berated myself for bringing the subject up. Surely there were those in the city who had suffered worse. I should not be surprised that he should desire more to speak with his comrades than with a woman of whom he knew little and cared less.  
  
"'Tis nothing," I said again.  
  
"I think," he began slowly, "he thought you would rather see the Lord Éomer on waking. Perhaps he thought you would not want him to see you wounded and helpless, since you are proud and valiant in battle. Such courtesy might one warrior offer another."  
  
"Perhaps," I murmured, surprised at such an insight from one who not been raised in a warrior tradition. The words did not comfort much. If Aragorn truly thought me a warrior, he would have let me ride with him when I had asked him. But it was kind of the halfling to try to comfort me, and I smiled faintly to show my gratitude. "Or perhaps he thought I was still angry at him. Whatever the reason, it matters little, as we are all soon to die."  
  
I regretted the words the instant I said them, remembering too late that not all in the city were comforted by the nearness to death. But Meriadoc only looked at me gravely and nodded, reaching out to touch my hand again, and this time he did not draw back so swiftly.  
  
"Maybe so. Still I am glad to have known you, Éowyn, and I would be greatly comforted if you would visit me, and talk with me, in what little time we have left!"  
  
"Then expect to see me often," I said, "for I do not think I can bear to stay in my bed, now that I have a reason to leave it!"  
  
"You had best leave soon, though," he told me, a light of mischief dancing in his brown eyes, "if you are not supposed to be here. The women usually come to check on me at about this time."  
  
I nodded, glancing over my shoulder at the still closed door. Then, surprising even myself, I gave in to the urge to ruffle his curly brown hair with one hand before I slipped out the door.  
  
His laugh, the first I had ever heard from him, followed me down the corridor as I tiptoed back to my own chamber. 


End file.
